


When Danny Met Kenickie

by JosieMarieVivianWilkins



Series: Gaggle of Gallavich [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: A teeny bit of angst, AU, Actors, Gay, Grease - Freeform, Kissing, M/M, Private School, School Musical, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:41:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosieMarieVivianWilkins/pseuds/JosieMarieVivianWilkins
Summary: AU in which Mickey and Ian attend a private school and end up performing in the school musical, Grease, as Danny and Kenickie.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher & Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Gaggle of Gallavich [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789267
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	When Danny Met Kenickie

**Author's Note:**

> This AU started from seeing the below image of Noel and getting Danny Zuko vibes. So this became a lot more than I intended it to, had smut in it that I didn't intend for it to, and took me a lot longer than I anticipated.
> 
> It is 07:00am and I have not slept but I wanted to finish this because I am already a day and a half later than I wanted. But, oh well, here it is. FYI this hasn't been proof-read (too tired for a 9.4k proof-read before bed, whoops!) only thrown in to Grammarly very quickly, so sorry if there are some boo boos.
> 
> Enjoy some OOC Gallavich during quarantine and stay safe. Maybe even check out my other work on here or my Tumblr - thebestpartofthecarrotcostume - because I'm bare hilarious!
> 
> Trigger warnings in the end notes - I'm really tired, so I'm sorry if I missed any!

__

_What is dedication?_

_Dedication is described in the dictionary as the devotion of time or effort to a particular task._

_But that’s putting it lightly._

_Dedication is the driving force of achievement in life._

_It’s doing absolutely anything and everything necessary to excel, be your best, and achieve your goals, no matter the costs or consequences._

“Are you sure?” Mandy looked at her brother questioningly from where she stood behind him, her brows knitted together in worry. “I mean, this is permanent, Mick.”

Nodding slowly, Mickey took a deep breath. “Yeah. I have to show just how much I want this part. Getting the lead in my senior school musical will look amazing on my college applications.”

“I know it will, but… I mean, I think your talent is enough to get you the part.” Mandy’s dark brows had not relaxed, still high and full of unease.

Sighing, Mickey turned to take the bottle of dark liquid from his sister, squirting it blindly over the top of his head. He felt the cold liquid trickling through his hair and on to his scalp, sending a shiver up his spine. “All the greats do it, Mands. Joey King in _The Act_ and _Dark Knight_ , Cameron Diaz in _My Sister’s Keeper_ , Natalie Dormer in _The Hunger Games_ , A. J. Kappa in _Riverdale_ , and I don’t even know how many other dying kid/cancer movies. It’s just hair; being in the acting business means being willing to change it all the time.”

A sharp flick to his ear was the answer from the Milkovich daughter before she began to squirt more of the liquid in to his blond locks and rubbing it in, the crinkling noise of the disposable gloves and the squelching of the dye being massaged in to his hair filled his ears.

“I can’t guarantee you’re not gonna’ have a darker patch from that first squirt.” Mandy shrugged as she walked out of her brother’s bathroom, leaving him to wash out the dye.

As Mickey discarded his clothes and stepped in to the shower, turning on the multiple jets of water that were built in to the tiles, he hummed the backing music to _Greased Lightnin’_ , waiting for the water to quickly warm around him. The rainfall effect over his head sent tingles through his body from top to toe. The water on the floor gradually began to tinge brown, and Mickey instantly felt excited, all of it feeling all the more real. He began to sing along, ditching the humming as he did The Thunderbirds’ token sweeping arm gesture followed by the fist-bumping choreography as he sang louder, sweeping his hand smoothly to his head to wring some of the water from his hair in a fluid movement, an audible _splash_ echoing around him.

Once he was out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist, he looked in the mirror and felt his heart skip a beat.

“Yo, Sandra Dee, how’s it looking?” Mandy’s voice and three knocks in rapid succession pulled Mickey from finger the jet-black locks exploratorily.

Briefly moulding his hair in to a limp, wet quiff, he opened the door slowly and posed against the door frame, hooking his leg around it, and hung his head back.

“Holy fucking _shit_ …”

“Tell me about it, _stud_ ,” Mickey enunciated in his best exaggerated Sandy tone, jutting his chin out for effect. He may have been an actor, but maintaining a poker face after his entrance had Mickey abruptly tumbling in to a giggle fit with his sister.

“I still don’t understand how Dad _didn’t_ realise you were gay sooner!” His sister laughed, her blue eyes bright and beaming, as she laid back on Mickey’s bed and starfished lazily.

Running the short distance cross his room, Mickey jumped on to the bed and landed on his stomach, resting his chin in his palm as he simply responded in a light sing-song voice: “Acting!”

*** * ***

“Mikhailo Milkovich please.” Miss Juniper called out Mickey’s name, and he stood up to head over to the stage. “Need I ask which role you’re auditioning for?” His drama teacher asked with a small smirk.

“Danny, miss.” He grinned brightly at his favourite teacher.

The grey-haired woman returned his grin. “Perfect. Okay, if you can read the opening scene with Annabelle and then give me the first two verses of _Greased Lightnin’_ – Anabelle will sing your backing vocals.”

Stepping up on the stage, Mickey accepted the script segment from Annabelle. She was a pretty girl, with wavy blonde hair, striking grey eyes, and a more-than-ample bosom on display where her top shirt buttons were undone. “Thanks,” he smiled warmly at her before quickly skimming his lines and then clearing his throat. “I’m ready.”

And just like that, his smile was gone and his eyes were moony and adoring as he stood before ‘Sandy,’ listening to her say about how she didn’t want summer to be over. When it came to it, without hesitation, Mickey clasped her rosy cheeks in his hands and shocked Anabelle with a kiss which she had not expected from one of the openly-gay students. Much like Sandy should be, she was taken aback, only feeding in to the authenticity of his audition as she weakly returned the kiss before pulling back and simultaneously pushing Mickey away.

“Danny, don’t spoil it.” He could see the flush on Anabelle’s cheeks.

His eyes wide and enthusiastic, he insisted “It’s not spoiling it – it’s only making it better,” gripping at her upper arms and leaning closer to her.

“That’s enough, thank you, Mikhailo.”

He nodded and instantly stepped away from the blonde, turning to walk over to the piano that sat at the side of the stage and began to lift the top, admiring the inners as he began to half-speak, half-sing, turning away from the piano.

“ _Why this car could be systematic_ ,

_Hydro-matic,_

_Ultra-matic,_ ”

And then he was in the shower again, singing with passion as he took Danny’s minor choreography of his hips and arms and really worked his ass in to it, his hips snapping and leg bouncing as his arms pumped in the air. When it came for Annabelle to fill in as Kenickie, Mickey was swaggering about the stage and then back to the piano as he made sure to use his arms as his sister had instructed (“ _Don’t drop forget your arms when you start the strut – keep them going!_ ”).

And then, once again, Miss Juniper was cutting him off to thank him and advise that the cast list would be posted tomorrow morning. Returning to his seat, Mickey quickly rearranged himself back in to the role of student; he rolled his sleeves back down to his wrists, looped his tie around his neck, and pulled on the rich, green blazer, slinging his satchel over his shoulder before heading for the auditorium exit.

After years of psyching himself out watching other people’s auditions, Mickey had gotten smart in his senior year and made a point to exit swiftly as he saw the next auditionee stepping on to the stage (he thought Miss Juniper had called up an ‘Ian Gallagher,’ somebody he had never met), a tall guy with very bright red hair. Ian’s blazer hugged at his hips and broad shoulders deliciously. He was a tantalising specimen that almost made Mickey want to stay and watch his efforts. But he didn’t, instead making his way through the empty hallways to the carpark. He drove home with a warmth in his stomach, the radio turned up high as he sang along. Once at home, he and his sister got themselves caught up on their homework before ordering in pizza and continuing their _Breaking Bad_ binge on Netflix.

*** * ***

Walking in to school the next morning, Mickey’s stomach twisted and turned like there was a rollercoaster inside of him. Preparing to find out whether his hard work had paid off and earned him the leading role – and gold star on his college applications – felt daunting, made him feel physically sick. Much like in a teen movie, the cast list was an A4 sheet of paper on a notice board surrounded by hopefuls, and Mickey had to wait until a few people had cleared before he could squeeze his way through the throng.

_ Grease Cast List _

_Sandy – Annabelle Jones_

_Danny – Mikhailo Milkovich_

It felt as though somebody had taken the breath from his lungs and left him in an oxygen-less freefall. He stared at the sheet, looking at his name, and felt like he could only be described as looking like one thing in that moment: the star-eyed emoji.

He scanned down the list to see if he would be acting alongside any of his friends or drama classmates.

_Frenchy – Ophelia Argent_

_Kenickie – Ian Gallagher_

_Teen Angel – David Harper_

Ophelia was a beautiful girl with rich, dark skin and a natural beauty beyond comparison that had earned her several beauty pageant titles. She and Mickey had grown up together, being in the same class since kindergarten, and had both bonded over their love for performing. In the first grade, Mickey had played Joseph in the Nativity opposite Ophelia as Mary, and they had become good friends from then on.

Holy hell, the hunk from auditions yesterday would be playing closely alongside him, and Mickey didn’t know how he would be able to cope with that. He didn’t know anything about the kid to even know if he was fair game or some stupid, straight boy crush. Maybe Ophelia would know – she had a larger social circle that Mickey did, mixing with students across different grades and in different cliques due to competing with them. Mickey, on the other hand, was a little more resigned to his close circle of friends he had grown up with, Ophelia among a handful of other students, and people from some of his classes, one of whom was listed to play Teen Angel.

“Can you believe it?” And speak of the devil; David knocked his shoulder in to Mickey’s, offering a bright grin.

His friend was tall, slim, and every bit the practical joker in classes. His cheeky remarks and general goofing in classes had at first had Mickey looking at him as a nuisance and a distraction. But after being paired with him for a drama activity in sophomore year wherein they had been tasked with acting out what they believed would be their biggest disadvantage in becoming an actor.

Mickey had taken the opportunity to come out to his peers, acting out his sexuality as best as he could without being too vulgar, earning a few giggles from students with his hip thrusts (he had been called up on the inappropriateness until he had explained it further, for which he had then been commended on his candid and real choice). David had basically thrown himself about the floor in the centre of the circle and shouted out random words and phrases, moving quickly and with no coordination, attempting to portray the sporadicity and lack of attention span that were the result of his ADHD.

From that, Mickey had come to realise that David did not act as he did to make himself a deliberate spectacle or interruption, and had made an effort to get to know the good-humoured, boy better, finding him to be a loyal and warm person. He would probably be the person that Mickey considered to be his best friend.

“No…” Mickey simply replied, looking blankly between his friend and the cast list, looking at the bold notice at the bottom.

**_REHEARSALS: MONDAY, WEDNESDAY, FRIDAY 16:00 – 18:00 IN THE AUDITORIUM_ **

**_STARTING TODAY_ **

**_FULLY COMMIT OR QUIT!_ **

“Well done, man. I saw your audition, you killed it! And the hair really was a nice touch – Juno so appreciated it.” Another shoulder bump before David was guiding them through the crowd and towards their first period drama class, yelling “Excuse me, Danny-fucking-Zuko coming through here. Move! Yes, thank you, you too. Come on, don’t make him _Greased Lightnin’_ your ass out of the way.” Mickey had kept his head low at his friend’s words, feeling like he wanted to shrink in on himself with the embarrassment. It was times like this where he both loved and hated David.

With the excitement for rehearsals after school that day, Mickey’s classes seemed to fly by in a blur of congratulations, claps on the back, and whoops down the hallways. Walking in to the auditorium he instantly spotted a seat near Ophelia, her large, voluminous curls making her very easy to spot, and beelined for it, David in tow.

“Mister Zuko,” she greeted, grinning at Mickey as she knocked in to his shoulder playfully, afterwards offering a two-fingered salute and a “Teen Angel,” to David.

“What up, Foxy? Oh, I mean _Frenchy_ ,” David winked behind Mickey’s head as Ophelia rolled her eyes but giggled nonetheless.

Shuddering dramatically, Mickey scoffed, “Eww, straight people,” earning himself a sharp swat on the shoulder. “Yeesh, _aggressive_ straight people!”

“You will meet many of those in the business, Milkhailo,” Miss Juniper’s airy voice carried past him as she descended the steps, an air of quiet being left in her wake. Standing at the foot of the stage, she turned to face the students. “So, congratulations, each and every one of you was good enough to earn yourself a spot in this year’s production of _Grease_.” She lightly clapped her hands briefly.

“This year, at the request of the student council, we will be having our entire crew comprised of the student body. I will be introducing them to you on Monday; please, do not make the mistake that celebrities do and see yourself as more superior than them because you possess a different set of skills. Have it known that we will be working on a three-strike policy for _all_ indiscretions – you are all expendable, don’t forget it!” Her features, stern and firm during her speech, were almost instantly soft and cheerful as she clapped her hands together in front of her. “So, today I want you to become acquainted with one another and make yourselves aware of whom you should be interacting with and responding to during your key scenes.”

For the first fifteen minutes, I want my Pink Ladies and Thunderbirds to focus on one another and their big numbers. Non-Ladies and -Thunderbirds, get to know the dancers. Chorus, section yourselves, find your ranges, test your harmonies, and I’ll be over to see you in half an hour.” She gestured to different seating sections in the auditorium, advising each group where they should congregate.

Mickey moved over to where the Thunderbirds were directed, and sat before four guys that he didn’t know.

“So, is the hair permanent?” The ginger boy – Ian Gallagher asked, breaking the silence.

A short sigh and eyeroll. “According to my sister and scalp.”

Ian laughed shortly. He had a nice smile: good teeth, strong jaw, kissable lips. “Dedication, I like it. Never seen a ginger Danny this far,” he mused, turned in the seat to look at Mickey. “Ian Gallagher, I’ll be your Kenickie.”

“Nice, man.” Mickey smiled before pausing, looking at the three other boys seated with himself and Ian. “So, I’m really sorry but I don’t really know any of you guys.”

“I’m Wayne, I’m playing Sonny. And it’s cool, I’m only a sophomore anyways.” Wayne was fair with shaggy, mousy hair and warm, brown eyes. He was somebody that could easily blend in to a crowd, it was no wonder Mickey didn’t recognise him.

“Wayne’s cool when you get past the fact that he’s a dick,” Ian put in, pulling a laugh from the boys around him. Wayne shoved at Ian’s head, mussing his hair. “Easy, man – watch the hair!” Attempting to rearrange the stray strands of hair, Ian scowled at the boy that he seemed to be friendly with. “So, yeah, Wayne is the dick playing Sonny. This is Ethan,” He wrapped an arm around the blond boy’s shoulders beside him, “he’s my main man playing Doody.” Ian stage-whispered the next part, “even bigger dick than Wayne.” He then resumed his normal tone as Ethan was pulling the ginger boy in to a headlock; “So, yeah, Ethan: stand-up guy! And then Pickle here is playing Putzie.”

“ _Jesus,_ Ian! Really? Pickle? It’s been fucking years, man!” ‘Pickle’ glared at Ian angrily as a flush raced up to his dark buzzcut. “I’m Will.”

Smirking, Mickey sat forward in his seat a little, resting his elbows on his knees. “Nah, man, being introduced as ‘Pickle’ means there must be a good story there!”

“Okay, so-” Ian’s words were cut off by Will sending what appeared to be a very sharp punch in to Ian’s ribs, causing the redhead to cough dryly as he groaned. The redhead’s features straightened after he and Will shared a moment of unyielding eye contact.

From that moment, introductions were over and Mickey took the moment to guide his castmates through key scenes for the remainder of the twenty minutes before Miss Juniper had them switching groups, finding Mickey and Ian sitting with Annabelle and a bubbly girl with platinum blonde hair. Brief introductions found the blonde to be Grace Kirk, a junior playing Rizzo.

Mickey’s take-away from the first rehearsal was that Annabelle was very confident in her skill and needed the show for the same reasons as Mickey, being a senior herself. Grace wasn’t the brightest girl, but her heart was in the right place. Much like David, Ian worked to please crowds with his humour, which was probably why he enjoyed acting. There was a girl playing a Pink Lady with hair as red as strawberries (she actually looked something like a piece of holly with the contrast between her hair and green blazer) who did fantastic impressions. She managed to have a huddle of cast members laughing as she worked her way through all of the main cast members of the 1978 version of _Grease_ ¸ with her rendition of Jan’s toothbrush commercial having Mickey doubled over and clutching at his stomach through tears of laughter at her facial expressions.

All in all, the cast seemed to be a pretty good one, all very friendly and talented from what a run-through of _We Go Together_ as a finishing exercise showed.

*** * ***

Within a week of having his script, Mickey was almost word for word on his lines and others’ cues, highlighted copies of his scenes taped to the glass of his shower being the ultimate ‘study guide’. Their rehearsal held more structure during the second week, with Mondays being designated as musical days, Wednesdays for choreography, and Fridays for running lines and coordinating natural movement among cast members.

As their Friday session during the third week began to draw to a close, Mickey stood in the wings as the Pink Ladies ran through their sleepover scene, Ian beside him as Will, Ethan and Wayne stood a short way away. “Hey, man, I was wondering if… you wanted to run lines sometimes?” Mickey ran a hand up the back of his neck, feeling slightly uncomfortable and unsure of how Ian would interpret the offer.

“Yeah, sure, that’d be great. We can work on the ‘be my second’ scene, try and choreograph it a little – I had a few ideas for how we could make it our own.” Ian’s eyes were still transfixed on the girls’ excitable scene going on before them as he spoke.

A flutter of excitement ran through Mickey’s body like an electric shock. “Yeah, sounds great, just let me know when you’re free.”

Finally, Ian turned to look at him, the lights from the auditorium highlighting his solid jaw and firm features against the black of the stage curtain. “Any time. Dad made me quit my job at the club to focus on schoolwork; as long as I’m studying or rehearsing, I pretty much have free reign. Getting away for a drink or smoke, that’s next to impossible.”

Chuckling softly, Mickey boldly suggested, “Well, maybe we can two-birds-one-stone that shit at mine – have a ‘study sleepover’ or something.”

“Not just a pretty face, Mikhailo.”

Ian saying his birth name? Holy fucking shit, Mickey could have all but come right there and then at how perfect it sounded coming from his lips. He tried really hard to control the heat that wanted to creep up to his cheeks and embarrass him; he wanted to say something cool and off-handish, but what came out of his mouth he was sure his sister would have told him was downright desperate and too forward too quickly.

“Haha, yeah. My dad works away through the week, doesn’t land back in the state until Saturday evening; Friday’s are good.” He chuckled through his blush.

“Awesome! Well, let’s swap numbers before we let out and we’ll sort something out.”

And that was all that could be said before they were having to filter on to their side of the stage for them to be waiting outside the window.

Later that evening, as he stepped out of the shower and scruffed at his dark locks with the towel, his music, which was playing through his bluetooth speaker, was interrupted by a small _ping_ that Mickey knew as his text alert. There was that stupid, childhood crush part of him that hoped it was Ian, but he wasn’t stupid enough to expect a message from the boy he had seen a couple of hours ago with no need to message so soon after. It was more than likely his sister letting him know she had found a hook-up for the night and wouldn’t be home until the next day, so he didn’t rush to check it, instead taking the time to continue singing to the chart songs blasting out in his bathroom before it chimed again. Hmm, his sister wasn’t one for double-texting unless there was an issue or she needed an instant answer – then she was a multiple-texter on a mission!

Pulling on some flannel pyjama pants from the back of the door, Mickey walked out to his room to check his phone, seeing the two texts on the screen he had heard come through.

 **Mandy (19:57):** _Staying at Lip’s, don’t wait up! Xx_

As he had predicted, his sister was having a wild Friday away from home. But the second message was slightly more unexpected, not belonging to his sister.

 **Ian G (20:04):** _Hey, it’s Ian. Don’t suppose that Friday night 2 birds thing could be a possibility tonight? My family is driving me insane >.<_

His sister’s voice echoing in his head, as it had tried to earlier that evening, about how he would seem eager if he responded too soon had Mickey anxiously pacing between his room and bathroom as he waited for the time to tick round to half eight ( _twenty six minutes isn’t too quick to respond_ , he reasoned). As he walked back and forth, singing along to the music that echoed from the steamy room, his fingers itched with the desire to pick up the phone and respond to Ian every other minute.

 **Mickey (20:30):** _Yeah, sure man. Head over any time_

He quickly fired over his Lakeshore address in response to Ian’s query of location and then set about pulling on a bar of dark skinny jeans and a white t-shirt that hugged his chest and arms nicely. After gelling his hair and brushing his teeth, he was just about to shave when he heard the doorbell chime throughout the house.

Okay, so fate wanted him to spend an evening along, with the guy he was crushing on, without even being able to shave. Sure. Great. Okay.

With a sigh, he rubbed his hand across his stubbly jaw as he made his way down the large staircase and found the ginger boy half-smiling on his porch, sporting an outfit not dissimilar from his own.

“Hey! Am I okay parked there?” Ian smiled as he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

Nodding, Mickey stepped back from the door to gesture Ian in; “Yeah, Mandy isn’t back until tomorrow anyway so you’re good wherever.”

“Ooh, you’re like an episode of _The Bachelor_ ,” Ian laughed as he toed his sneakers off and left them by the door, following behind Mickey as he headed for the kitchen.

“Well, if the contestant would like to follow me to the wine cellar where I can procure him a rose,” Mickey’s deliberately-false British accent had Ian chuckling behind him. Opening the cupboard built in above the refrigerator on his tiptoes, Mickey laughed lightly. “Not a rose. But… is vodka okay? Or whiskey?” At the answer of ‘whatever he was having’, Mickey reached up for the bottle of whiskey, only to flounder as his fingers brushed the bottle further back in to the recess of the cupboard with each grasp.

Ian’s low rumbling chuckle got closer to Mickey, and he was suddenly almost flush against Mickey’s back, causing the fine hairs across his body to stand to attention, reaching over him to pull the bottle down before Mickey managed to shove it in to Narnia. “At least you would have been able to reach in the wine cellar,” Ian joked, handing the bottle to a flushed Mickey.

“Fucking wise guy,” Mickey grumbled as he put the bottle down and retrieved two glasses and popped some ice from the refrigerator dispenser in to the glasses before half-filling each with the dark liquid. He didn’t look at Ian, instead opting to quickly redivert them to his room, hoping to allow his discomfort to dissipate. “Yeah, so, this is my room,” he mumbled as he made a move to place their drinks on the unit the white gloss chest of drawers that sat beneath his TV.

“It’s nice. TV is a little small though.”

At that, Mickey looked to his fifty-inch screen before looking back to Ian to be met with a smirk. He was about to give a dry laugh in response when Ian put his drink down and said, “Anything bigger than nine inches and I don’t know where to look,” trying not to let his lips pull up at the corners like they wanted to.

Mickey’s face seemed to be able to blanch and then flush immediately after as he turned Ian’s innuendo round in his head.

 _Did Ian Gallagher just make a_ gay _dick joke at me?_

“You’re meant to laugh…” Ian prompted, taking another sip of his drink and peeking over the rim of the glass at the now-dark-haired boy with a smirk evident in his green eyes; “it’s a joke.”

His face must have looked like a tomato by this point, his face hotter than the guy in his bedroom. “I know… I just – are you gay?”

Before Mickey could eat his words and hide in his bathroom, Ian was letting out a single sharp laugh before asking: “Am I funnier if I say yes?”

_Fuck._

_How to Flirt: 101_ , taught by Professor Milkovich.

Step one: insult the person.

Step two: ask them if they’re gay.

Step three: turn your bedsheets in to a noose.

Step four: don’t try to flirt again. Ever.

Dragging his hand down his face, Mickey began to ramble out an apology; “I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry man, that wasn’t fa-”

“It’s fine.” Ian’s words were stoic; “I am, but that shouldn’t make a difference on whether or not I’m funny. Like, I think I’m pretty funny, but if I knew that telling everyone I was gay before I told a joke would make it even more hilarious then I would’ve been declaring my sexuality years ago.” He drained his drink before popping the glass down and perching himself on the edge of Mickey’s bed, looking up at the owner with a natural expression. When Mickey said nothing, simply standing in a silence fuelled by embarrassment, Ian let a toothy grin spread to his cheeks. “I’m screwing with you, man – relax!”

Finally, he was able to breathe again; Mickey felt his body physically sag with relief. He didn’t say anything, simply picking up his glass from the bedside table and nursing it eagerly.

Standing up, Ian walked around the bed to stand beside the still-nervous Mickey. “Seriously, it’s cool, Mickey.” He took the drink out of Mickey’s hands, placing it down on the bedside table with a finality of sorts. “And… that was actually me trying to flirt with you. Never been a skill of mine,” Ian’s words were no longer as confident, instead seeming almost as uncomfortable as Mickey did in that moment. “I can go… if you want.”

Mickey offered a small shake of the head and a mumbled “Nah, man.”

“Then, in that case, I’m gonna’ go and have a smoke and top up my drink if that’s cool?” Upon receiving a nod from the older boy, Ian offered, “Want a top-up?” The only answer Mickey gave was to knock back the rest of his drink and extend his cup towards the redhead. “Great. I’ll be back in five.”

And then Mickey was alone again.

_Get it together, Mickey! Jesus, Mandy would be punching you right now for that rude, fucking idiot move back there._

Sighing, Mickey threw himself back on to the bed, throwing one arm over his face as the other worked on probing through the few items in the bedside table, finally coming away with his vape, instantly placing it between his lips. Like a lifeline, Mickey dragged on the pen like an addict, chasing the minor relief that the marijuana would hopefully offer.

“Hey.”

His cast member coming to the room with fresh drinks and the pleasant aroma of nicotine following him had Mickey sitting up quickly, still continuing with his vape. “Thanks, man,” he mumbled, tucking the vape behind his ear to accept the glass from Ian and take a couple of generous gulps.

“You need to get out of your head, Mickey. You may be a good actor, but even _you_ can’t perform with enough tension up your ass to stand you straight.” He walked to the soundbar on Mickey’s drawers, and took a few moments with his phone before the familiar _bleep_ indicated that he had connected his phone to it. And soon the familiar introduction to _The Time Warp_ was filling his room. “Come on, you’re gonna’ get up, do this ridiculous dance with me, and then we’re gonna’ work that scene.” Ian allowed no room for protest, grabbing Mickey’s arm and pulling him up to stand beside him.

Completely a fan of musicals, Mickey hesitated only for a moment before yelling a “What the fuck,” over the music and bouncing along to the music, singing as he went.

_And it’s the pelvic thruuuuust!_

“Oh, Rocky Horror, I do _not_ need instruction on my pelvic thrust,” Ian laughed, sending a wink and a grin to a red-faced Mickey.

Ignoring what he now knew to be Ian’s blatant flirting, Mickey sang and danced his way in to comfort, gradually feeling more at ease and relaxed around Ian. And once the music had ended, Mickey was breathing in deeply as himself and exhaling as Danny Zuko. And this was visible to Ian, so much as in how Mickey even held himself and altered his resting face.

They toyed back and forth with the scene a few times, trialling a few different ways to choreograph the unspoken moments, be it Ian fidgeting with his collar, or the shoulder punches that indicated the understanding and agreement between their characters. Knowing that, much like a fight scene, they would need to be agreed and coordinated in their gestures that impacted on the other, they repeated the punches and shoulder bumps that led up to the awkward hug multiple times, treating it like their own dance number that needed to be precise and practised.

They had been working on the scene for about an hour, both feeling confident in it. It was then that Mandy would have been proud of him for seizing the moment.

Right arm shove.

Left arm punch.

Right arm punch.

Right shoulder knock.

Left waist punch.

Right shoulder punch.

Hug.

Pull face back.

Look uncomfortable.

And deviating from their choreography, Mickey took the opportunity to press his lips to Ian’s rather than pull away and make the show of combing their hair. It was a bold move on Mickey’s part, never generally being too forward in his advances, and he held his breath until he felt Ian’s body relax against his own and his lips reciprocate the kiss. The breath he had held was released against Ian’s soft, smooth lips as Mickey transitioned the kiss in to wet, open-mouthed ones, tasting more of Ian’s warm mouth.

And in a moment, Ian was shifting their momentum, grasping at Mickey’s ass cheeks roughly through his jeans, pulling his hips against his own, as he caught the shorter boy’s lower lip in between his teeth. The two actions combined managed to pull a soft, throaty moan from Mickey’s lips as his hips involuntarily jerked in to the redhead’s. That was enough for Mickey to force more dominance in to the kiss, instantly sealing their lips together again as he pressed his tongue in to Ian’s waiting mouth. He teased and tasted Ian’s tongue with his own, his hand fingering at the cropped ginger hairs at the nape of his neck as their kiss continued.

After what felt like forever and heartbeat in one go, they finally separated, panting through bruised lips as lust-filled eyes held contact. Both boys were flushed from the unexpected want and need that had consumed them.

“Got out of your head,” Ian mumbled, knocking his forehead in to Mickey’s playfully, “I’m glad.”

“Oh, shut up.” Mickey’s cheeks reddened even more as he tried to look away slightly, only to find one of Ian’s freckled hands redirecting his face so that their lips met again in a more gentle kiss.

“Make me…” Ian breathed in to his mouth as he deepened the kiss, licking his way in to Mickey’s mouth to coax his tongue in to action once more.

The evening saw the pair drink lazily and pass Mickey’s vape back and forth between themselves as they lay on his bed talking about meaningless information, exchanging childhood stories between probing for trivial information. They fell asleep on their sides facing one another, mumbling through the tiredness for as long as they could before they unwillingly submitted to sleep, their hands just barely brushing knuckles between their chests.

*** * ***

Monday’s rehearsal could only come soon enough, with Mickey and Ian exchanging texts, memes, and silly photos since Ian’s departure Saturday morning. They had briefly shared a glance in passing as Mickey had been on his way to a Lit class; he hadn’t noticed Ian initially, too engrossed in his conversation with David, but the ginger boy had bumped his shoulder firmly enough for Mickey to know that it had been done with purpose, and looked behind at the culprit to be met by smirking lips and glistening green eyes that travelled further down the hall.

“Hello, everyone! So, with our lines, songs, and choreography seeming to sit quite nicely separate this past fortnight, we’re going to be working on marrying them up going forward.” Miss Juniper grinned at the students that sat in the front few rows of the auditorium, no longer clustered apart in their friendship groups as they had been during their first rehearsal, and tucked a silver strand of hair behind her ear. “This week, we’re going to work from start to finish, slotting all of the pieces together and working out any kinks and issues we find. Hopefully, next week, we’ll be doing straight runs in every session, and then we’ll have two sessions for dress rehearsals before opening night on the Friday.” Clapping her hands together as she seemed to do when she would move on to give direction, the drama teacher called for her Danny and Sandy to make their way to the stage for the opening scene.

Much like his audition, Mickey managed to fill the first scene with emotion and depth, and they were only pulled up by Miss Juniper about where they could improve their spatial awareness of the space they held on the stage when doing the splashing and messing on the ‘beach,’ which the art department volunteers had painted up in to a picturesque sunset over the ocean, gulls littering the sky.

The transition in to the school scene, wherein the stage crew subtly rolled in the next set and the Thunderbirds and Pink Ladies brought in a table and bench each, perching themselves on it, their director pulled them up on making their prop movement more fluid and placing light dance motions in to it. When Mickey was hollered at by the Thunderbirds from their table, enquiring about his summer, Mickey saw the firm expression on Ian’s face as he asked, “How was the action at the beach?” a slight sarcasm behind his words, his eyebrows bobbing up and down speaking wonders.

Mickey cocked an eyebrow, his eyes questioning Ian’s acting choice as he responded, his voice up and down as he _ooh_ ed and replied, “It was flippin’!”

The scene showed no more deviations from previous rehearsals, no additional eyebrows raised or tone changes. They managed to work through to the end of the Pink Ladies’ sleepover, with Miss Juniper giving her feedback and making adjustments (juggling chorus or dancer locations, hand gestures, and set arrangements).

With the session completed, the students began to filter out of the auditorium. Looking for the red head of hair, Mickey hung back a little, making more of an effort to pull on his tie and blazer than was necessary. “Yo, Ian!” He called when saw the younger boy heading up the stairs to exit. When Ian didn’t even acknowledge him, Mickey took the steps two at a time to catch up with him. “Hey, man, I called you,” Mickey said when he finally fell in to step with ‘study sleepover’ buddy.

Not turning to look at Mickey, Ian mumbled, “Oh… didn’t hear.”

Okay. Ian clearly had something up his ass.

“What’s up, man? You were giving me some weird looks during rehearsal…”

“I mean, have you seen all the Kenickie portrayals? He’s a pretty weird guy.”

Right, okay, Ian wanted to deflect. That was fine. Mickey could act like a little bitch too. “So are you apparently,” he snapped, quickening his pace to leave Ian behind in the hallway without a second thought.

Back at home, his sister noticed his annoyance as he refused a take-out and Netflix night, fobbing her off with the excuse of having homework to catch up on now that rehearsals were filling his evenings. It wasn’t a lie technically, it was just that Mickey was more than capable of managing his time well around additional commitments, opting to use his free periods and lunch breaks to make up for the lost time where his friends may simply fool around.

Laying on his bed with his headphones filling his ears with rock music, Mickey picked at his BLT as he worked on getting ahead on a few chapters for his Lit class. He had already downloaded and completed the audiobook when it had been announced that they would be studying _Tess of the d’Urbervilles_ , knowing that listening in advance made it easier for him to pick out things like foreshadowing and other indicative writing techniques when he then read it at the class pace and made his annotations and connotations. But now, as he looked at the pages, the words seemed foreign, simply spinning around in his head with no meaning. He read and re-read the same page of the chapter three times before giving up with a groan, launching the hefty hardback at the wall.

A moment later, his door burst open, prompting Mickey to pause his music, with his sister standing there and looking about the room for the source of noise and damage. She pursed her lips when her eyes settled on the book that lay beneath crumbling drywall. “You better fix that before Dad gets back,” she warned, going to inspect the site before placing the book back on Mickey’s bed. “And… do you wanna’ talk about it?”

“No. Boys are stupid. I’m just gonna’ fix the wall and pretend I’m straight and that my wife is sitting on the bed, cheering me on for my macho fucking skills.” Mickey’s words dripped with irritation and undertones of sarcasm. He looked to his sister, offering a slightly apologetic look; “Sorry.” A small sigh passed between them. “No. But thanks, though.”

“You need me to be the wife cheering you on? I finished my homework while you were at rehearsals, so I’m a free agent for the night.” Mandy waggled her perfectly-pencilled brows at him. “And would it be inappropriate for me to bring popcorn to the event.”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey removed his headphones before exiting his room with the wave of a middle finger over his shoulder.

As Mickey worked on filling the dented, crumbling drywall, hoping that if he piled enough filler over the indentation it would stop it from caving in and crumbling completely, Mandy lay on his bed with their next episode of _Breaking Bad_ playing.

“Is Ian G. the boy making you wanna’ be a straight, ass-crack-showing, wall-fixing husband?” His sister asked out of nowhere.

Turning around, Mickey was met with his nosey-as-fuck sister looking at his phone. “Bitch, get off of my phone! What the fuck’ve I told you?” Mickey snarled, walking away from his handiwork to snatch it from her hands and shove at her shoulder. He looked down to see a new message from Ian that she had been reading and started replying to. “Get out.” When she looked at him in confusion, he all but roared, “Now!” Frowning heavily, he followed his sister’s sheepish retreat to make a show of slamming the door and locking it behind her. He knew it was an easy enough lock to open with a coin, but it was the symbolism behind it; Mandy and him were always open and welcoming to one another, so the locking of the door held a firmness and finality that told Mandy that she had gone too far.

Before he paid too much attention to his phone, he quickly went about setting up the fan heater to try and dry the filler quicker and tidied away the mess he had made and the tools he would no longer need to finish the repair.

 **Ian G (19:40):** _Are you bi???_

He was taken aback by the question (even if a part did want to laugh at the outrightness of it and the familiarity between his question of Ian’s sexuality) because he couldn’t understand where it had come from. But the response his sister had started typing out made him roll his eyes so hard he figured that if he didn’t stop, he would give himself a migraine.

_No, I’m gay as a fucking unicorn with a giant dildo in place of a horn! My sister will vouch for my gayness because she has to leave the house when I have someone over because I’m a noisy, needy fucking bottom who doesn’t und-_

Holding his thumb down on the backspace button, pressing down harder like it would erase the cringe-fest that Mandy had written quicker, Mickey sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t know what the tone of the message was, the purpose of the question, or what trouble answering would get him in to.

 **Mickey (19:52):** _No. Why?_

It was simple, safe, and not overly friendly. Mickey wanted Ian to know that he wouldn’t be treated like shit and then forgive it instantly. He had been in the type of relationship before where he bent over backwards and forgave small things that gradually built to larger things that ended up being anxiety-inducing and bordered on emotional abuse.

 **Ian (19:53):** _Looked pretty in to Annabelle during rehearsals_

Was he fucking serious? Ian Gallagher was fucking jealous of a chick? And so he saw fit to act like a little bitch about it? Nah. Nope. That wasn’t cool.

After a minute of standing up, storming about in rage, waving his arms in the air, and then settling on nursing his vape pen, he finally typed back a message, his brow set and his thumbs all but stabbing the screen angrily.

 **Mickey (19:55):** _1\. I’m an actor._

 **Mickey (19:55):** _2\. Even if I was bi, you and I aren’t exactly locking it down after one make-out session and a couple days messaging._

 **Mickey (19:56):** _3\. Not fucking cool how you treated me after what I told you about my ex._

Seething to the point of nearly shaking with anger, Mickey inhaled until his vape was dry and had to be refilled; he was barely feeling any relief, instead just feeling more and more angry as the minutes ticked by without a response from his cast member. With a sigh that was mixed with a groan, he tossed his phone to the other side of the bed and went downstairs to get himself a whiskey, hoping that a large glass or three would help him relax.

He sat at the kitchen island drinking, one hand swirling the glass as the other traced the pattern in the grey marble worktop, following the branches and tendrils until his arm was at its full extension, then doubling back on himself. Simply feeling full of anger and frustration, Mickey drained three glasses, finally feeling a soft hum begin to settle over him, and decided that that was a good time to pour one final glass and take himself upstairs before he drank himself stupid and past the point of functioning at school the next day.

Taking a long gulp and then popping the glass on his bedside table, Mickey tried to press the thoughts away that he was deserving of how others treated him and worth no more or less. Two last desperate drags on his vape and another gulp before he got in to the shower and turned on the speaker in there at its highest volume, pressing the play button to just continue where he had left off at on his playlist. An AC/DC song echoed throughout the quickly-steaming room, and he went about cleaning himself incessantly, scrubbing until his skin was red and sore.

Walking in to his room to find Ian-fucking-Gallagher of all people sitting on his bed made him want to turn around and go right back in to that bathroom and not come out. His face must have portrayed the ‘what in the actual fuck?!’ expression that he had aimed for, because Ian knotted his fingers in his lap and mumbled quietly, “Your sister let me in.”

“I didn’t know she was my fucking doorman – I’ll make sure to fire her!” Mickey scowled at the ginger boy perched at the foot of his bed, placed in such a position that Mickey was unable to miss him if he had tried.

“I’m sorry, Mickey.” Ian began, standing up to meet the blue eyes that bubbled with rage and frustration. “That wasn’t fair of me.” Mickey dodged around Ian to go and clear the contents of the glass he had brought up with the intention of sipping. Turning, Ian made a point of trying to look the older boy in the eye as much as he allowed. “Like you said, we aren’t anything, so I had no right.” Ian paused. “It just looked… really fucking convincing.”

“That’s kind of the point of acting?” He was snarky and harsh in his response.

Nodding, Ian shrugged a little. “I know. I just… I don’t think I could kiss a girl like that.”

“It was like a kiss from my fucking grandma, man.”

As Mickey took a puff on his vape, he felt a shiver run up his spine, water droplets creeping down his towel-clad body. The smoke trickled out of his nostrils as he simply held eye contact with Ian, seeing him trying to process what Mickey had said and convey the sincerity of his apology. It was definitely there; the green eyes almost looked troubled and his brows knitted together in thought. Mickey took another deep drag on his vape before stepping towards Ian and pulling him in to a heady, open-mouth kiss, breathing the smoke in to his mouth as he worked on showing Ian what a good kiss felt like to him. His hands travelled between Ian’s ass and the line of his sweatpants, just thumbing underneath the waistband to trail against his soft skin from front to back.

“That’s the kind of crazy, head-spinning, almost-can’t-breathe kind of shit that I felt kissing you on Friday.” Mickey then promptly pressed a closed-mouth, firm, chaste kiss to Ian’s lips, no sensation or effort behind it. “That’s what Annabelle feels like.” Sighing softly, Mickey looked down, allow the cogs in Ian’s brain to turn and make sense of what he had just done. Of course, he noticed the very evident bulge that Ian’s sweatpants were unable to hide and had to try to bite back a satisfied smirk.

“Yeah, okay. Cool.” Ian then cupped Mickey’s cheeks, pulling him in for another kiss one hand sliding round in to the dark locks as the other caressed his stubbly cheek.

More than definitely, Mickey would deny the fact that he may have done a little modified _Time Warp_ pelvic thrust, ever so slightly rocking his hips against Ian’s crotch, but his tented towel would prove otherwise. When they separated, Ian breathing hotly against his cheek, Mickey sighed a little, still provoking Ian’s crotch with his own.

“Let me show you what kissing you feels like,” Ian hummed, nipping playfully up the stubbled jaw to lick down the shell of Mickey’s ear and then nip the lobe. “Let me make it up to you…”

Showing no signs of protest, Mickey felt Ian untuck his towel, letting it drop to the floor and pool at his ankles. The way the soft fabric almost dragged against his cock and had the brunet’s head hanging back with a small sigh. And he was even more vocal as Ian took him in his hand and began to pump him with slow, measured movements as his other hand rested at his right nipple, stroking, flicking and pinching it, his mouth licking and nipping at that sweet spot on his neck.

And then Ian’s mouth was gone, his nipple now cold and exposed as his hand disappeared. But the loss was compensated for as Ian moved to catch some of Mickey’s precum on his thumb and rub at the head of his cock teasingly. And when he swiped the digit over the slit, Mickey was almost hissing at the sensation. Sensation didn’t stop coming either. Opening his eyes slightly, Mickey saw as Ian got on to his knees and wrapped his lips around the head, teasing slowly with the tip of his tongue. But the sneaky bastard had taken the remaining ice from Mickey’s glass it seemed because his mouth was so cold that the change in temperate had Mickey’s hips bucking forward.

“Ah ah,” Ian tutted, a hand sat at Mickey’s hip, smoothing small circles in to the delicate skin whilst also being ready to soften the impact of any unexpected hip thrusts. As he took Mickey in further, his other hand traced its way around his waist to then sit at the curve of his butt cheek, cupping and squeezing as he began to bob his head at a steady pace.

“Holy fuck, Ian…” Mickey gasped out, his breathing coming in small, short bursts, “I’m not gonna’ be able to- I’m fucking close!”

Ian’s mouth was lost for a moment as he pulled off to briefly suck on his index finger (which was so hot to watch that it had Mickey’s cock twitching in his face), and mumble out “No, you’re not gonna’ be able to…” And then his wet, still-cool mouth returned, and his hand was grasping at his ass and edging closer and closer. Ian’s cheeks hollowed, his teeth giving just the right amount of pressure and friction, and he moved at a faster speed as he pressed his wet digit against Mickey’s tight hole, the new intrusion sending him over the edge with a growing cry of pleasure and hands grasping at Ian’s hair for leverage.

“Kissing me must be great,” Mickey mused breathlessly as Ian took the towel and worked on cleaning Mickey’s softening cock delicately.

Humming and nodding, a small smirk crossed Ian’s lips before he mumbled, “Tastes pretty good too,” biting licking and then biting his lower lip in a way that made Mickey want to bite it until it was bruised and bleeding.

Ian didn’t stay much longer, confessing that he had had to sneak out due to the time and the fact that it was a school night. He left Mickey with a slightly-longer-than-intended kiss and the open question of the two of them going out some time.

*** * ***

In the two-and-a-half-week build-up to opening night, Mickey and Ian went on two official dates and had a multitude of unofficial, let’s-chill dates.

The first Friday, they went to the movies to see _Joker_ and then stop for some food after, as per Mickey’s request. By the time Arthur was arranging for his television debut, Mickey and Ian were rearranging their clothes in the bathroom after a steamy make-out session accompanied by blowjobs and light fingering. Luckily, they still got to see the shootings and riots, so Mickey declared on their departure from the theatre that it had not been a wasted date, earning himself a shoulder bump and an eyeroll from Ian.

Their second date saw Ian deciding that they should go to a baseball game (Mickey didn’t particularly follow the sport, but he wouldn’t tell Ian that, wanting them to do something that Ian wanted). Ian had asked if Mickey supported the White Sox, to which he had agreed in hopes that it was the right answer (it was). He couldn’t even remember the name of the rival team, only that they had won the game. But Ian had decided, much like Mickey, that it hadn’t been a wasted date because they had been caught on the Kiss Cam and that that made up for the White Sox’s epic loss, leaving Mickey blushing but giddy.

When opening night drew round, the boys were unofficially dating. But Ian changed that. Just before Mickey was about to go on, promptly after Miss Juniper’s show circle (which was filled with words of encouragement and a reminder to picture the audience in their underwear), he handed Mickey a small, brass padlock with a grin.

“Your bike’s gonna’ get stolen, man,” Mickey joked, looking at the padlock in confusion before sending Ian questioning eyes.

“That,” Ian began, pointing at the item, “is me trying to lock this shit down.” At Mickey’s silence, Ian clarified, “And by ‘this shit,’ I mean you and me. Together. As boyfriends.” His words were used sparingly to fill the silence that the older boy didn’t seem willing to break. “You could speak any time…” the redhead half-laughed.

No words were needed though. Not for Mickey. Much like when he acted, he could convey a world of emotions and thoughts simply by his body language and movements. And he did that with Ian, a huge grin spreading across his lips as he tucked the padlock in to his pants pocket and wrapped his arms around Ian’s neck and proceeded to kiss him like they were the only two people there. Unaware of the small audience that they had drawn about themselves with their behaviour, including the fact that Ian was lifting Mickey up slightly (he would get shit for that later), the two continued to kiss deeply as their bodies seemed to tangle in to one.

“Nothing is more unprofessional than a boner through skinny jeans! Come on, boys – places!” Miss Juniper’s words cut through their kiss like a bucket of cold water.

“I take it that’s a yes then?” Ian mumbled, his face hot and flushed.

“My unprofessional semi would agree,” Mickey said shakily, popping a sweet peck on Ian’s lips before getting to his place on the wings, ready to leave behind Mikhailo Milkovich, Ian Gallagher’s boyfriend, and become Danny Zuko for the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> TW: minor anxiety, mention of emotionally abusive relationship (no details), mention of violence (referencing the end scenes from Joker briefly).
> 
> \---
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> As per, I love feedback, so hmu, my lovelies!


End file.
